


The Birth of the Lamb

by Flatfootmonster



Series: Before and After You (Orphanage AU Bookends) [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bullying, Escape, Fights, Friendship, M/M, Orphanage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 22:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flatfootmonster/pseuds/Flatfootmonster
Summary: “It’s beautiful.” Will breathed, the smile carved deep lines into his chubby cheeks and Hannibal committed the image to memory. His fingers found a small sharp stone, dusting off the wood that remained between them, he began to score into the surface. Will watched intently, reading out loud as the words were revealed.“Some… butterflies… live .. for… two ….days.” He paused, waiting for Hannibal to finish the next sentence. “Carpe Diem?” Will looked thoughtful for a second, then met the older boy's eyes, “Seize the day.” Hannibal gave a pleased smile. Will looked out over the water for a moment before his eyes came to rest on the butterfly in his palm. Deep within his own mind, the older boy waited for what would come. “At least  they  are free. They  fly  . They  love  , however a butterfly does. What did  he get?” The ‘he’ that Will referred to was the dog. Hannibal returned to write again, just one word.“Compassion.” Will said softly, Hannibal nodded. The younger boy’s chin dropped to his chest and his eyes closed. A deep breath moved through the small body as he steadied his emotions, the butterfly took off, dancing back across the water. They watched until they could see the thing no more.





	The Birth of the Lamb

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [The Birth of the Lamb / Рождение Агнца](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14011095) by [Krayn_Aletale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krayn_Aletale/pseuds/Krayn_Aletale)



> I wrote this one shot for Fannibal Fest 2017 and I won the AU catagory with it, so I am very proud of it to say the least.
> 
> Sometimes I just want to give Hannibal something good <3
> 
> Enjoy,  
> Becs

Hannibal sat on the bough that had become his lookout through these long and monotonous days. The tree had stood in this spot for decades, it had been here when his family had been alive, it had sheltered the play of his sister and himself when this place still belonged to his family. Now he was a relic of that history, pointed at and taunted for his fall from grace by the other boys at the orphanage. He hated them, he hated this place too now. All that remained was bitter reminders he'd much sooner forget. He couldn't help but contrast this sorry existence against the home he had loved deeply.

Sighing, he leaned back against the sturdy trunk, the leaves rustled around him as the breeze moved through the estate. If he closed his eyes, there was somewhere he could go, a place where he stored pleasant experiences and the family that was absent. Painful memories lived there too, but right now they were shut off by heavy doors, shoved down into stone basements. The memories he did visit were simple things; the laughter of his sister as she chased butterflies, the rich tone of his mother's voice as she recited poetry, his father's fingers working over the ivory keys of their grand piano. Small fragments that were deep and rich and fulfilling to Hannibal.

The boy would much rather stay up here, eyes closed and vacant than be down there, teased and beaten to see if today would be the day that Hannibal Lecter would talk. He knew there was a bet on it now, a bag of boiled sweets that grew as the months went on, for any that forced a word from the withdrawn child. Hannibal would never give in, not on their terms. Not all the attempts were violent ones but those were as painful, just in different ways. They could never hurt him deep enough to reach the wretched torrent that swelled in him, could never hurt him enough to match the pain that was a part of his anatomy now. They were stupid kids to him, they inconvenienced him but they were nothing to fear.

Reaching behind him, he gripped the slender book that had sat between his back and the trunk. Setting it on his knees, he thumbed open the pages to where he had left off. Today he had managed to smuggle out an analysis on the play _The Tempest_ , by Shakespeare. It was not the first time he had read the book; the library was limited here and almost entirely made up of books that had survived from his parents’ collection. Most of the boys here couldn't read, well not to any skill. It was also not the first time Hannibal felt disappointed in Prospero’s mercy. A slender finger ran over the faded script of the page just as something caught his eye, movement down in the reeds that surrounded the lake. Closing the book, he tucked it into the band of his trousers, under his coat at his back. Leaning forward, he peered down, already knowing what he would find.

A head of dark curls moved carefully within the thick reeds, quick looks shot over the boy's shoulder as he watched for anyone that may have followed. Content that he was alone, the boy pushed through thick shrubbery and disappeared, to Hannibal's eyes at least. This was the third day in a row and the curiosity had mounted now within the watching boy. He had not felt intrigue in the least bit since returning here after the war, but now here he was, aching to follow where this scruffy child was leading. He resigned himself to the pull, sliding off the branch gracefully and letting himself drop softly onto the bed of reeds below the bough.

It didn't take much detective work to spot the small gap that the boy had slipped through. Mimicking the other, Hannibal checked his surroundings, he was quite alone. Shoulder hunched and head ducked, Hannibal pushed through the undergrowth, trying to move as quietly as possible. He would prefer if he could simply observe the actions of the other, unknown, and then retreat. Hannibal didn't want friends, he didn't _need_ friends. Peering into a small clearing, sheltered by the brush, the smaller boy was sat cross legged on the floor, cradling something in his lap, eyes intent on the thing.

Hannibal should have moved back then, left the boy to his privacy but he was captivated. There was a tenderness in the others actions that he had almost forgotten existed. Fingers stroked across the adorned creature; the boy murmured softly to it. He _would_ go, he just wanted to lean forward slightly, perhaps he could scent whatever it was the other held so reverently. As his weight shifted, a twig snapped underfoot, cold blue eyes grasped Hannibal now and pinned him. He couldn't move away from that gaze. He worked his mouth, as if searching to say something, beg pardon for the intrusion, before remembering he did not speak anymore. His mouth clicked shut, regrettably. The boy just stared into him.

Will Nightingale was the boy's name, an equally sad and wretched being as himself, Hannibal had surmised months ago. Like the older boy, the other kept himself to himself, he also was the victim of bullying if he managed to stray into the focus of the larger boys. Nothing to the extent that Hannibal received, but that was still more than a child of his age should be dealt. As the older looked into the sullen face of the younger, he was reminded yet again what a dreadful place this was.

Just as Hannibal ducked his head in an apologetic manner as if to leave, Will gestured to the spot next to him.

“It's Hannibal, isn't it? I know you don't talk. You don't need to.” The small voice was soft, barely a whisper, as if it was so used to being ignored it didn't want to disturb the world with its assumed uselessness. Hannibal hesitated, he didn't _want_ to spend time with anyone. He didn't _want_ company. But then he had intruded, that was rude and dismissing the gesture would be equally rude. Letting out a short breath, he took the short few steps to where the younger boy sat, gracefully folding to take the place next to him. In the boy’s lap was a scrawny puppy and in Will’s small tight fist, scraps from lunch were clutched. Hannibal couldn't help a little smile that crept onto his face. _So this boy was sacrificing his food to feed the pup?_

“I found him,” Will said, as if in response to the thought. Hannibal eyed him as the blue gaze looked fondly on the animal. “There was a bag in the lake. The rest were dead.” The eyes squeezed shut at the thought, the pain still there. “Just him. I hid him here. I guess he stays because there's nowhere else to go.” The boy’s voice was becoming a little firmer as he went on, but he stopped there, eyes staring as though his brain was already contemplating all the unhappy endings to this strand of hope. Looking down, Hannibal didn't see much promise himself. The thing was too young to be without a mother. He almost laughed at how relevant that was to the three of them there.

He didn't want to give false hope, but something inside him wanted to soothe the hurt. Stripping off the worn, sorry excuse for a jacket that he wore, he gently picked the pup up and laid it on the material. Small hands fretted over what Hannibal was at, but stilled as the younger boy came to understand the intentions of the other. Wrapping the material tight around the thing, he handed it back to Will, as tenderly as a newborn babe. There was something cathartic in the gesture for Hannibal, some semblance of care that had been vacant too long. The large eyes of the younger watched, arms wrapping tightly around the bundle, a nervous gratitude. Nervous at grasping a slither of something sweet, it would surely be gone soon.

“Thank you.” Will stammered. “I didn't have anything to use.” Hannibal examined the thoroughly worn but clean shirt the other wore. He was more threadbare than himself.

“What book is that?” Will gestured to the thing sticking from the back of his waistband. Pulling it lose he handed it to the other, who placed the pup carefully in his lap and took it reverently. “They don't let the younger boys in the library. My mother used to read to me. I think.” Hannibal watched the boy, musing to himself as if those memories may not have happened. It had all been a dream and this place was all that had ever been. He understood that notion. The boy still possessed a naive openness that was endearing. It reminded him of Mischa, his sister.

Will looked up to the older boy. “Could I read it? Please?” Hannibal smiled, a small nod and a hand gesture to encourage the younger. His smile was returned with an eager grin and for a few minutes the two sat in silence as blue eyes scanned pages, turning them quickly, not knowing when the next chance might occur. Suddenly he stopped and looked back at Hannibal.

“Do you want me to read to you?” The older boy blinked at the offer. Will knew he could read, there was no patronisation in the gesture. It was a simple need to share something together, a shared moment. Bemused, Hannibal nodded slowly. His amber eyes widened further as Will shouldered into his body, resting against him as he began to read aloud, albeit in a faltered fashion, but he persisted through the Shakespearean language.

_“I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable.”_

Hannibal found himself closing his eyes to the soft intonation of the boy's voice. He realised it was strangely calming. Hesitantly, he reached an arm up, resting it on the others shoulder. The smaller body relaxed under his touch. The two lost time that afternoon within each other's company.

* * *

 Lying on his stomach along the branch, Hannibal waited. He had not seen Will pass underneath him yet, the day was getting late and he had not seen the boy at lunch either. It couldn't be said that he was worrying, but something cold gripped his tummy, the inevitability of pain. It was why he had ignored Will since the afternoon they had shared a book. There was no point in getting attached in any manner, it would leave you bereft. Hannibal's short life had taught him this lesson, if nothing else. Yet still, he had felt the weight of the others eyes, a questioning gaze, at lunch or dinner. All other times, the older had made himself invisible. He had still looked for the other, waited for him to visit the pup, waited for him to enter the dining hall. He still felt the tightness in his chest loosen when he would see the mass of curls in his peripheral. Hannibal hated himself for feeling anything, it was nothing but a weakness, a crack in him. He could not, however, help the natural affinity he had for the other. Perhaps it was the way Will reminded him of his sister.

Hannibal returned to the book under his nose, trying to push the unwelcome thoughts from his head.

_Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart._

Hannibal snorted derisively at the words on the page, his internal scowl was interrupted by a scraping noise coming from behind him. He turned to look over his shoulder, brow furrowed in anticipated annoyance. It was quickly smoothed away.

A small hand hooked onto the branch, fingertips almost slipping, scrambling for purchase, before a second hand threw a bundle of material onto the trunk. Slowly, a red faced Will pulled himself onto the bough, scrawny leg hooking over the limb, as the small boy gained his balance. Turning, Hannibal sat up to face the other, who shuffled towards him, pushing the material before him.

“I can wash it if you want.” His eyes were downcast, sorrow seemed to pulse from him. Hannibal looked down to discover the material was his tattered coat, covered in fur but that was the only indication of the mutt. A single tear escaped Will's eye, making its way down his cheek, before the pad of his thumb swept it away. The boy stilled unsure of what to do, then shuffled an inch closer to the older boy, chancing to meet his eyes for a second. Leaning forward slightly, a shaky breath left the younger. “I just wanted something good.” He whispered.

Surprising himself, perhaps it was Aurelius’ Meditations or perhaps it was his own need, he reached out to bring the younger boy to his chest, stroking his hair as smoothly as the wild tangle would allow. The body shook within his arms as Will began to sob into his chest. He wanted to soothe the other with words but they caught in his throat. Anyone else would assume that, when you had been through what most the boys here had gone through, a thing like this would be easy to dismiss. Quite the contrary, every little thing put an extra weight on your head as you trod the endless black depths of despair. _He had just wanted something good._ Hannibal closed his eyes on the tears that threatened.

A while passed as one held the other. Shadows lengthened and Hannibal was lost in his thoughts, in his memories. The scent of Will was becoming emblazoned in his memory; the morning after a storm. A gentle sigh left the small form within his arms, calmer now. At a temporary peace. _How had he known where to find him?_

Will sniffed. “I had seen you come up here. But I know you don't like people.” The younger boy leant back, wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. “So I left you alone.” He mumbled. “I only came to give you this.” The younger boy poked at the jacket, in case the other had forgotten. “Sorry.” The words self deprecating, not wanting to be an encumbrance on the other. Hannibal huffed out a breath, almost a laugh. Almost. Will regarded him through drawn brows, a small smile was returned coupled with a shake of Hannibal's head. Will's presence was not a chore, the boy was content in his muted company, and somehow that was enough. _Perhaps he could have a friend._

With the thought came the conflict. Scared of loss, Hannibal would try and claim the other. He would be possessive if he even had a shred of care for someone, and he realised he already had that for this boy. But maybe, in an existence like this, that would be ok.

Hannibal tipped his chin in the direction Will had climbed, with a confused expression the younger boy started back that way, quickly replaced by a delighted smile when Hannibal followed. The younger made it down easier than he had up, waiting for Hannibal to lead the way. The older pushed a path through the rushes that lead to an old rickety platform that jutted out into the lake. Soft footsteps followed him up the walkway and Hannibal closed his eyes, imagining it was Mischa chasing him, as she had years ago. Turning, he reassured himself it was indeed the solemn boy, following in his shadow. It didn't make Hannibal sad, life had to be different and this was a different life now, he accepted that. Maybe he could make the most of it.

Graceful as a cat, the older boy sat on the edge, the younger plonked himself next to him, after a moment he shuffled closer.

“I put him back in the water. With the rest.” Will said out of nowhere, staring into the green blue lake. Hannibal nodded to himself, it was apt he supposed. The very fact that Will had embarked on such a ceremony at his young age stuck out. A deep boy, he decided, a depth of feeling spanning most twice over, perhaps. The older felt pity then, nothing good came from feeling too much.

Both boys were distracted as a butterfly fluttered over the water, flashes of red and blue, dancing like the carefree wonder it was. It was a warm spring afternoon and Hannibal decided to impart something on the other. Taking Will's hand, he positioned it palm up, raising an eyebrow in amusement to see the skin already damp with sweat. Hannibal gestured for the younger to hold just so. The dainty butterfly floated from flower to flower before drifting towards them. Will held his breath as the thing came to land on his palm, he blinked before his eyes shone with wonder at the creature. A small laugh left his mouth, it was a beautiful sound in their barren confinements.

“It’s beautiful.” Will breathed, the smile carved deep lines into his chubby cheeks and Hannibal committed the image to memory. His fingers found a small sharp stone, dusting off the wood that remained between them, he began to score into the surface. Will watched intently, reading out loud as the words were revealed.

“Some… butterflies… live .. for… two ….days.” He paused, waiting for Hannibal to finish the next sentence. “Carpe Diem?” Will looked thoughtful for a second, then met the older boy's eyes, “Seize the day.” Hannibal gave a pleased smile. Will looked out over the water for a moment before his eyes came to rest on the butterfly in his palm. Deep within his own mind, the older boy waited for what would come. “At least _they_ are free. They _fly_ . They _love_ , however a butterfly does. What did _he_ get?” The ‘he’ that Will referred to was the dog. Hannibal returned to write again, just one word.

“Compassion.” Will said softly, Hannibal nodded. The younger boy’s chin dropped to his chest and his eyes closed. A deep breath moved through the small body as he steadied his emotions, the butterfly took off, dancing back across the water. They watched until they could see the thing no more.

“Maybe one day we will fly away.” The words were almost a whisper. Hannibal glanced at the younger boy to see a mischievous grin there. It suited Will, he decided. “We should go. We will miss supper.” Both were reluctant to leave, but leave they did and together.

* * *

 Hannibal shifted slightly on the hard stool that he sat. It was difficult to get comfortable when you had just been beaten thoroughly by the Librarian. Someone had found out that he had been taking books out, and by the smug glares that were aimed his way by Fedor, he could quite easily guess the culprit. Indeed, the teachers beat him more thoroughly, making an example of the _little lord_ who used to be the heir to this place, lest anyone be accused of preferential treatment. _Preferential treatment? Here?_ The thought made a sardonic laugh stir in his chest, it never reached his lips.

Keeping his back straight and his posture strong, he looked down to the unfortunate mess on the tray that the kitchen staff referred to as food. Stew was not supposed to be grey. He pushed the mush around with his fork, deciding that the hunk of bread he had been given would be sufficient. A timid presence arrived at his side and the older repressed a smile as Will placed his tray next to him, hesitating before Hannibal turned to invite him to sit, with a nod of his head. It had been over two weeks since they had begun to sit together at meal times, well, in fact since they had stuck together most of the day through. They had shared stories, or silence, Hannibal had advised the younger as best he could with written word here and there, the younger was bright. He picked up on the smallest nuances and actions, assuming perspective of all, bad and good alike in a refreshing manner. Mostly, Hannibal had enjoyed listening to the boy’s thoughts. As young as he was, he had a unique take on life that belied his years. Two weeks of companionship, and still he waited to be offered the seat.

Hannibal resisted the urge to tousle the younger’s hair fondly. But he _was_ fond of the other, and he was all too aware of the interest the other boys had taken in Hannibal’s new friendship. Will hadn’t noticed. Well, Hannibal assumed he hadn’t as he probably would have chosen to drift away from him by now, under the threatening scrutiny of the other boys. But here they were, Fedor’s eyes were on them both, a cruel sneer on his face, and a new fear that had been growing in the older boy curled cold fingers around his spine.

“So,” Will began, “I managed to figure out Mr Fig leaves his post ten minutes before shift end at midnight, usually.” His voice was a low hush, not that anyone was near enough to the pair to hear. He licked his lips before continuing. “And then the night post gets there at midnight.” Small fists bunched in the worn material of Will’s trousers. “So we would have time to get to the cellar, where you showed me we can get out.” Hannibal did smile then, Will was cunning and brave. Once they had taken the passage from the cellar, they would be far away enough to go unnoticed. Then there was just the military border to get through. _Just_. There was no need to worry Will about that though, they'd find a way. There was a padlock on the cellar door that led to the escape passage. He would need a crowbar, that would be easy to obtain on the day.

Hannibal realised Will had managed to clean his plate in the short time since he had sat. His fingers caressed the bread, considering It, before he stuffed the thing into his pocket. The older shook his head, he had tried to convey that there would be no need to stockpile food but either his limited communication was lacking or the younger was stubborn. He settled on the latter. Will's eyes lingered on Hannibal’s tray, betraying his appetite by the tip of his tongue that darted out to lick his lips, before he averted his eyes, pretending he was as unphased by the small portions as the older boy. Hannibal huffed, as he pushed his tray towards the younger. Those blue eyes lit up before hesitating.

“Are you sure?” Hannibal gave Will a jesting, long suffering look before giving an emphasised nod of his head. The tray was quickly pulled to the other, food ladled into a hungry mouth quickly. The younger boy actually hummed as he ate, much to Hannibal's amusement. Once the last morsel had disappeared, Will turned to the other, eyes sharp.

“So when do we go?”

Hannibal considered for a moment before shaking his head. There had been a number of fights in the dorm he shared the past two nights. As a result, one of the Matron’s had taken up a closer watch during the night, to control the situation. If it was quieter tonight, perhaps they could slip away tomorrow.

“Not tonight. But tomorrow?” Hannibal inclined his head, always a little baffled that Will seemed to read his thoughts so well. He had taught him, as best he could mute as he was, his method of memory retaining, building a palace. Will had been practicing, he said it helped him to sleep at night. Maybe one day they would share rooms there.

“Lord Lecter.” A crude voice disturbed Hannibal’s thoughts. Both boys turned to see Fedor standing behind them, a handful of his friends lingering as the hall had begun to empty out, boys making their way to bed for the night. “I didn't mean to disturb your romantic meal, sharing food.” The rather dull boy leered, “If I had known they were giving you too much, I'd of taken your food off you a long time ago.” Hannibal resisted the urge to correct the boy's grammar. Truly, of all their attempts _that_ was the only one that tempted him. Secondly, he would like to see the menace of a boy try, the only reason the bully had bested him before was due to his friends restraining him, that and the adults turning a blind eye. All he did to respond was stare at the boy blandly. The threats were quite dull. The mean eyes shifted to the boy at Hannibal's side, and there was that sickening grin again.

“What does this one do to deserve the pleasure of your company, huh?” The boy stalked forward, the group behind snickered at their ring leader and the implications of his words. “Maybe I'll borrow him.”

Hannibal heard the thud of the stool he had been sitting on crash to the floor before he realised he was on his feet, anger flashed hot in him. This hideous creature, _this pig,_ really didn't deserve the air in his lungs. Jaw clenched and fists balled, Hannibal only needed to take a step towards the bully before he flinched back, only relaxing when the safety of his friends surrounded him.

“Boys!” a yell carried across the hall. One of the cook's’ waved a wooden spoon violently at them across the room. “ _Enough_!” The voice boomed, bringing everyone's attention to Hannibal and Fedor. The bully shot a smirk to the two boys he had approached.

“A weak spot. You wait, little Lord.” Turning on his heel, the group marched out of the hall, Hannibal kept his eyes on Fedor’s back until he turned out of the room. Making himself breath calmly, the older boy turned to pick the stool up. He sat next to Will, wincing as he forgot the tender muscles that had been beaten earlier. He turned towards the younger boy, worried what new fear he would see in Will. Surprisingly, the other looked calm, he even smiled slightly. The younger boy _trusted_ in him. Hannibal recoiled at the thought, remembering the last time someone had trusted him.

“I heard about Madame Rainer.” That was the librarian. “Sorry Hannibal.” finger tips landed on his arm as the younger tried to show his remorse in the beating, as though he were somehow responsible. Hannibal looked down, ashamed, feeling unworthy of the trust and the depth of feeling. Because of who he _was_ , Will was now a new focal point for bullies. They would need to get away and quick. The younger boy bent forward slightly, trying to peer into a suddenly impassive face. “I-I got you something. I'll have to show you tomorrow. I have to go, my dorm will be turning in soon.” The small fingers squeezed Hannibal’s arm gently, and the older boy nodded as the younger stood and took his leave.

“Good night, Hannibal.” Will said over his shoulder, a tenuous smile was his response.

He was left alone with his guilt and bad memories.

* * *

  _Tiny white finger grabbed onto Hannibal’s ankle. He looked down, the room was filling with pitch black blood. A weak and pale limb was under the surface that he was somehow standing on. It pulled on him, not to bring him down, but to lurch the body up and out. The blue porcelain face of Mischa emerged, mouth gaping and eyes staring with the veil of death covering them. The eyes locked onto him and the girl tried to speak but only managed to gurgle on the blood that was spilling out of her mouth. A second hand gripped his other ankle and he lost his balance, the dead form of his sister managed to catch a breath and shrieked his name, a sound that sent a tremor through the cold marrow of his bones. He plunged forward into the darkness, more hands appeared from the endless blackness gripping him and pulling him down. Blood filled his nose and mouth. He couldn't breath. He opened his mouth and tried in vain to suck the thick, viscous, cold blood down into his body._

“ _Hannibal_ .” The small voice in the dark whispered, his eyes shot wide trying to fight from the memories, the fear. He sucked in air as he searched for the source of the voice, realising a hand rested on his arm. With the dream still vivid, Hannibal snatched his limb back, trying to calm his breathing. A moment passed before the older boy saw two large eyes shining at him, peeking over the top of the mattress. Will shifted up a little so his nose was visible. “It’s me. I brought your gift.” A hand moved up to place a pile of something on the bed. Reaching out, Hannibal felt at the items. _Books_. The darkness hid the warm smile that spread on the older boy's face. Knowing Will would be blind to his response, he moved his hand to cup the younger boy's cheek, the warm living flesh comforting to both. There was silence but for the small breaths the body that knelt by his bed made. Hannibal stroked his thumb across the soft skin, Will moved his head a fraction into the caress. Fingers pushed a stray curl behind an ear, before Hannibal brought his hand back over the sheets.

“Um, there's someone on post in the hallway. I just have to stay here till they go.” Will continued to whisper, pausing on the words he was about to say. Finally he committed himself. “I had a nightmare as well.” The words were barely there. Hannibal’s heart went out to the younger boy. One day he'd ask about the demons that lurked in his life. One day soon.

Will made as if to lay on the cold floor boards, just before he disappeared out of view, Hannibal reached out to touch his shoulder. Shifting to the edge of the narrow bed and pushing the stack of books under his pillow, he patted the space next to him.

“Oh, ok.” The younger boy's pleasure at the gesture was evident in his tone. To be cared for, to be close to someone. Will moved slowly, trying not to make any noise. The weight that settled next to him was too light, Hannibal knew. Will rolled onto his side, and the older boy wrapped an arm around his slight body, the contact was soothing. A soft sigh left Will as he wiggled to get comfortable. Resting his chin on the top of the others head, Hannibal enjoyed the scent of his companion. He would just rest here a while until it was safe for Will to go back to his own bed. At least that's what he told himself. The connection between them brought a deep, peaceful sleep quickly to them both, together free from their nightmares.

 

_Hannibal walked through the familiar corridor of his memory palace, fingertips running over furniture that no longer existed. He hadn’t done this before whilst his body slumbered. He stopped, confused for a moment on a place that was different, a door that was new. He stood before it now, pushing the heavy wooden thing through. The room was something Hannibal did not know, different from castle dwellings, but a home still, simple and clean. A fireplace was centred along a wall, in front lay a sheepskin rug and on top of that lay Will; curled and sleeping. Hannibal didn’t question it, he simply sat on a chair that moulded to his body and watched Will sleep until his own eyesight blurred and faded._

* * *

 It was a nasty sneer, followed by unkind laughter that woke Hannibal from the best sleep he had managed in almost a year. Blinking through the blur in his eyes, he felt Will stir next to him. Oh yes, the laughter was aimed at him. Hannibal silently cursed at himself for not waking early, as he usually would, to get Will back to his dorm room before the others awoke. He drew the younger boy tighter into his protection, Will's heart rate staying surprisingly calm.

“Not only are you a faggot, Lecter, but you like kids. You're a disgrace.” Fedor spat at him from his vantage point, standing over the two. “You didn't deserve the fucking title.” Hannibal could have let it go. He could have ignored it, but one of the shameless bullies grabbed a hold of Will's arm, yanking him violently from Hannibal's grip. The older boy snarled as Will fell to the floor with a bang. Leaping up, he moved with deadly accuracy as he grasped the throat of Fedor, shoving him roughly against the bunk bed next to his own. Hannibal seethed down on the other, an urge within him rising to bite the lips from his face. It would be much harder for the pig to smirk then. He felt the boy choking for breath under his palm, hands gripped to his wrist and still, he didn't need to say a word.

“Hannibal.” One of Fedor's friends called from behind him. Reluctantly, amber eyes left Fedor's face, it was starting to turn blue and it was utterly fascinating. Looking over his shoulder, two of the bullies had Will, one had an arm around his throat. “Hurt him and we'll hurt your little boy.” A smarmy voice oozed from a chubby, spotty boy. Hannibal had never bothered to learn his name. He released his grip on Fedor, pushing him sprawling back on the bed, noisily sucking air into his lungs. He lurched at the boys and, as his fist connected with the face of the bully who had spoken making a sickening crunch, Will bit hard into the arm holding him.

The first boy was down and Hannibal turned to the other, who was rubbing his arm. Will had slipped free but didn't flee, not quite sure what to do with himself other than stay with his friend. Stalking up to the last bully, he was interrupted in his reckoning by the dorm door slamming open.

“Hannibal Lecter!” Came the shrill cry of the Matron. Hannibal didn't feel anything but relief that Will was ok, regardless of his impending punishment. He was already walking towards the door, ushering Will in front of him, when Hannibal was commanded to follow the robust woman. Will reluctantly left his side as the Matron split them apart, “Off to your room, Nightingale. You are lucky that I am not hauling your backside with us!” With quick looks over his shoulder, Will moved on his way as Hannibal was full bodily dragged to the Dean's office.

* * *

 Hannibal had sat through the lecture behind dead eyes. He was used to the way they spoke at, addressed and belittled him. Each and every time he sat here, unfairly in his mind, and the anger bubbled within him. One day he knew it would come to the surface. Their faces were unfeeling, blank and cold. _We're they even alive? Did they deserve life? If Mischa didn't have hers and they had theirs, surely life was not a gift at all. It was a luck of the draw_. Not for the first time, Hannibal wanted to flip a coin, be the deciding factor in the weary, lacklustre thread of their existence. Fingers curled around the wood of the chair arms, joints in the badly made thing creaking with the strain of his grip.

He had almost spoken. He had almost pleaded with them to watch Will. It had only taken a look into cruel eyes, indistinguishable from Fedor’s, to know his pleas would fall on deaf ears. Indeed, it probably would have made the situation worse. Hannibal would not be surprised to find out the staff had similar bets to that of the kids. With that, his anger was more suited to the older bullies, the ones that ran this pitiful place. Will and himself were in this alone, together but against the rest. He would see them through, he made a silent vow to himself that he would do just that.

Hannibal was finally given his leave, laden with chores for penance he would not be able to watch Will today. The only reason he was spared a beating was due to the fresh wounds on his rear from the previous day. He hoped the boy would find him and hide somewhere close by. Though part of him had faith the younger would be ok, there was a strength there almost conflicting with the gentle nature of his face. Almost, but somehow it seemed to compliment it. Hannibal moved swiftly back to the dorm, he had 5 minutes before he would be expected in the kitchens, luckily for them, the boys he shared the room with were long gone.

And so, he found himself stuck in the hot busy kitchens all day, sweat beaded on Hannibal's brow as he swept the hair back from his forehead, again. His fingers were wrinkled beyond recognition as he scrubbed at the large black pot that hadn't seen a thorough clean in years. Black smears of grease and char ran up his arms, the boy sniffed in disgust. It wasn't at his task, it was the general standards that the place was kept until one of the boys served penance here. Absolutely no care was given in any area of this place, he was reminded yet again. It was a wonder none of the boys had died from the food yet.

“Lecter, break.” The scrawny chef barked through the open door to the pot wash area. Hannibal let out a sigh, letting the scrubbing brush fall into the pot. Not usually one for leaving tasks undone, but in this instance Hannibal had scrubbed since breakfast until now, after lunch service, with no food. A plate was slammed down on the counter that he had cleaned meticulously, before the man walked off. The plate was simple; bread and cheese with some questionable sliced tomatoes. It was not a bother to him, he preferred this to the lumpy concoction that had been served as soup earlier. Grabbing the plate and a ceramic cup that held some milk, he pushed the door open that led outside, letting out a heavy breath as the breeze cooled his skin. He sat on a boulder and began to eat mechanically, sating in a very basic way the hunger within him.

“Hannibal.” Came a low voice from behind a row of bins. The older boy had forgotten to repress his smiles now, grinning as Will poked his head out. Hannibal nodded to gesture it was safe to come out, despite that the younger snuck over to him in the way Hannibal imagined a trainee assassin would. A laugh almost bubbled out of him, but his mirth was short lived as he took in the graze on the boy's knee and a scratch on his forehead. As Will neared he understood the serious expression on the older boy's face.

“It's nothing. I think it's Sam? He tried to follow me out. See where I was going. He got a bit pushy but I ran away. He's too fat to keep up.” Will grinned up at him, as he sat cross legged on the floor in front of Hannibal. His expression faltered under the concerned look that rested on him. “I didn't show him where the stuff was hidden.” The younger assured, worried that giving away the hiding spot they were stowing the few things they intended to take was them, was the cause of the others expression. Hannibal shook his head softly. Placing his plate and cup neatly on the floor next to him, he slid to the floor to sit opposite the smaller child. Gentle fingers swept hair from Will’s forehead as he examined the cut, it was just a scratch really but Hannibal could not stop the rage that began to pulse through him.

Tearing a clean scrap of material from the apron he had been given, Hannibal leaned to dip the thing in a bucket of fresh water that stood outside the kitchen door, carefully he dabbed at the cut, taking his time to make sure every grain of dirt had been removed. Will closed his eyes at the caring hands that held him. Then Hannibal moved to the graze on the others knees, a little deeper than the other. The younger boy winced slightly as Hannibal removed a small piece of gravel. Fishing in his pocket, the older found a plaster. He had made sure, long since, to have a few plasters around his person, anticipating being laid into by the boys. The nurse was not sympathetic to small wounds that might easily be infected. Blowing on the pale skin of Will's knee, he carefully applied the plaster. With a satisfied smile he returned his eyes to the younger boy's face who simply watched him with a look of awe and gratefulness. Hannibal couldn't stop himself from pulling the younger boy to him, laying a gentle kiss on the crown of his head. _Yes, they would get through this together._

“Tonight?” Will asked, voice muffled. Hannibal nodded. A small laugh came from under his chin, Hannibal looked at the younger face curiously.

“I got something.” He whispered, the older boy watched as a small hand pushed into the pocket of his trousers, grabbing whatever item was bulging visibly. The hand came out holding a grubby paper bag, the top was opened carefully to reveal a few handfuls of colourful boiled sweets. The noise that came out of Hannibal was alien to his own ears, Will was equally shocked as the older boy laughed. It was a small genuine thing, but it brought a laugh from the other. Fingers reached into the packet to take two, placing one in Will's palm and putting the other in his own mouth. It would seem there would be no spoils for the boys bet. “I waited ‘til they went for breakfast. I found them in his trunk, stuffed in an old shoe.” There was no need for Will to say that the _he_ was Fedor. The sweet was sugary on his tongue, Hannibal allowed himself to enjoy the pleasant taste of a small victory. Crinkling the bag so it was closed, he pushed it back towards Will.

“I will put it with the other stuff. We will take it with us.” His voice was excited and Hannibal couldn't help but share the sentiment. An adventure was at their feet. Hannibal knew already that he would take them to his uncle's house, where ever that was, there they would be fed and cared for. There he could teach the younger all that he knew, and learn the depths of this boy. Hannibal let himself believe, he let himself hope. It had been a very long time, and he grabbed onto those emotions with firm hands. He had made a promise he would keep.

“Hannibal!” Came a muffled cry from behind the door. Reaching out towards Will, he ruffled his dark hair. Both boys stood, the younger nodding in response to words that had not been exchanged and sprinted off, gravel crunching underfoot. The older boy watched him disappear around the corner, headed towards the hiding spot, before turning to collect his plate and cup and heading back to the kitchens and the pots.

Hannibal sat down late at supper, a weary sigh leaving him. Hands were raw from scrubbing all day and his backside still sore. Most of the boys had left, Will was gone also, along with the younger boys whose curfew started earlier every night. Anxiety piqued in him but he smoothed it over, they would get away before anything could escalate. _They would._ Despite the self reassurance, Hannibal found his appetite lacking. After a few bites of the watery pasta, he stood to return his tray and clean his plates.

Long legs strode up the stairs, two at a time and swiftly taking him to his dorm. Pushing the door open, he felt as though a bucket of ice cold water had been chucked on him for the fear that clenched his being. Excepting a lanky boy standing at the window, the room was empty. Something pulled him towards that window as the boy turned with a crazed smirk directed at Hannibal.

“Wanna see your little boy get jumped?” As Hannibal looked outside, he saw Will following behind a child his own age, across the lawn that led to the lake. A boy Will wouldn't suspect. He worked his mouth wordlessly as he saw the forms of Fedor and Sam emerge from the shadows around the lake. “We got lil Tad to tell him you wanted him outside.” The lanky boy smirked. The cold that ran through him turned to searing heat, the anger and fury that bubbled beneath his seemingly unruffled surface about to erupt. Amber eyes turned on the other boy who flinched at the look alone. Hannibal wasted no time in moving his hand to the side of the boy's head, slamming it against the brick wall with generous force and watched as the body crumpled to the floor. He would not be up anytime soon.

Turning to the window, he slung open the sliding pane of glass in time to see the older boys grab Will by the scruff of his neck. His companion whirled within their grasp laying punches and kicks as best he could, but they dragged him further into the shadows. Hannibal looked down, the dorm was only two storeys up. Climbing out, he clung to the sill as he took a breath, then he pushed himself away from the wall, turning in the air and landing with a bend in his knee. As soon as the soles of his feet hit the ground the boy took off at a sprint, uncaring of the consequence now and following the direction he could hear muffled cries. The noises propelled him forward, faster and faster. Strangely his heart was calm. His brain was calm, as though this had been subconsciously premeditated. Fingertips itched in their need for blood, for retribution. _He had just wanted something good._ His good Will.

He gained on the boys frighteningly quickly. His hand reached out, grabbing Sam’s collar, ripping him back with such force that the boy was flung backwards and fell heavily to the ground. The face turned to him, Sam knew this was different. This wasn't cruel violence. This was deadly. A foot sank into the downed boy's face before he had managed to cry out, the crunching noise letting Hannibal know that he had broken some teeth. Perhaps that too long snout as well. He didn't stop kicking, regardless of the hands that came to shield the bloody mess. The boy was crying and Hannibal had no time for his tears. It was the shriek that came from behind him that brought his head swiveling around.

Fedor had Will, both hands grasped harshly to the back of his head and the bully was pushing the younger boy’s head under the water, in the shallows of the lake.

“I’ll stop if you do, Hannibal.” The tremor in Fedor’s voice let Hannibal taste the others regret. He had not judged this well. They had thought the mute boy had fought as hard as he could before now. They thought they knew his measure. They were wrong and the realisation was dawning, as slowly as a crack forms in ice underfoot. The fear was palpable. One last dull thud of his fist into that red and ruined face, had the boy out cold. He'd probably wake up again. Maybe.

Hannibal dropped the dead weight, he'd been holding Sam by the neck apparently, his eyes were now fixed on to Fedor, he would not be stopped. The bullies mouth dropped open, a wordless noise coming out. He staggered backwards, releasing his grip on Will, who sprung up, gasping for breath and vomiting lake water at the same time. That tightness in his chest released knowing the younger was ok, a split second was all he needed to regain his focus on the pig. He was not felled yet.

“It was just a joke, Lecter.” The retreating boy stuttered.

Fedor feigned a step back before launching at the approaching beast, tackling him around the waist, taking them both to land with a splash in the shallows. The bully straddled him and Hannibal smiled sardonically back at him, causing Fedor to freeze a moment before he began to send wild punches down onto the other. A laugh between the blows made Fedor draw his lips back in a rictus snarl. Hannibal's fingers landed on a jagged rock on the lake bed, the size of two fists. In seemingly slow motion, he brought his hand up, striking the boy hard enough, even at this angle, to send him sprawling. Hannibal didn't hesitate, he lurched up and brought the thing down again on the boy's skull, and again. Indiscriminate blows rained down. Hannibal observed that the human skull was very easy to rearrange. Water mixed with blood was splashed and sprayed onto his face, as the limbs weakly battered at Hannibal before they stilled. The victor sat back on his haunches, breathing deeply and dropping the rock. He felt nothing. No, that was untrue, he felt relief as the small form moved towards him. He hesitated to look up, worried what expression he would find upon the younger boy's face now he had seen the beast that was Hannibal. Meeting those clear blue eyes, he saw only need and urgency. There was no fear.

“Hannibal, we should go. He’s dead. They… they are gonna come. They will take you away, we have to leave. _Now_.” The older boy nodded, Fedor probably was dead, Hannibal's assault had been brutal and unrelenting. He gestured towards Will to stay put, as he made for their hiding spot, the tree was not ten meters away. He'd be quick, and quick he was, squeezing through to the spot he had first sat with Will and uncovering the small parcel of food and books, buried shallowly under some reeds. Grabbing it, he made his way back to Will.

As Hannibal emerged time stopped. Will's small form straddled Fedor, hands fell with a splash from Will’s arms as they were held locked in place, holding Fedor’s own shirt, pulled up and pressed over his mouth. The moment was deathly silent for two heartbeats, before Hannibal hurried to Will's side. Wide eyes still staring down at the bully, whose own were glazed and looked aimlessly at the night sky. The younger boy didn't budge.

“H-he was moving. H-he’s a bully. He hurt you. He...” Will uttered, anger and fear mixed into his words. The small bloody hands held tight to where they had taken that life, his fragile frame rigid. Hannibal reached a hand out towards the younger boy, gently touching his cheek. If he hadn't known it before he realised it then, love pulsed in him for the other. It was about the only pure thing left in him.

“Will,” Hannibal’s voice was unpracticed and tight, the younger boy looked at him, wonder replacing horror as his eyes focussed on the older. Kneeling down he cupped the boy's face with both hands. “It’s OK.” Will was too shocked to speak, instead he loosed his grip on the corpse and moved into Hannibal’s body, arms winding around the older boy's neck in an embrace. Blood soaked and wet, the older boy knew the other had been right, they had to go. “Will, lets go.”

* * *

 The escape was gruelling. The heavens had opened and the two boys slogged through the thickening mud that carpeted the trail to the military border that was their last hurdle. Hannibal kept his face impassive, pulling ahead and clutching the smaller hand tightly within his own. The younger kept up without complaint, but Hannibal could hear him labouring. He _would_ get them both there. Stopping, he heaved the other over his shoulder, weak words of protest came from Will but he laid still after a moment, relaxing in to the strength he trusted in Hannibal. Rain dripped down the older boy’s face, stinging his eyes like the promise of tears, as he powered through the rolling landscape. His eyebrows drew together in concern as he heard a sniff, the muscles in Will’s stomach tighten, repressing a sob.

“Will, are you ok? Don't think about it. _Focus_ , we are getting away. I have you.”  There was a pause before a sob was released, Hannibal could imagine the tears running down soft cheeks, mixed with rain, washing the blood away.

“It’s not that,” Will's voice was pained and on the point of breaking under emotion. “You spoke to me. A-and you spoke.” That was all the boy could manage to express. The gravity of it not escaping him, it touched a part of Hannibal that, emotionally, his simple words were elevated over what they had just done together for Will.

“I was always going to, Will. There were many times I wanted to.” With the words, he brought Will down, carrying him in his arms and cradling him close to his chest. “I have so much more to say. And I will when we are safe.” Will nodded against his chest and Hannibal couldn't help but feel regret in all the words he had not said. They _would_ have time.

“Hannibal, I'm tired.”

“I know. We'll be safe soon.” Hannibal resisted the flinch that wanted to break through his body as he heard dogs barking in the distance. They didn't have long now. Hannibal had not planned a chase into their escape, giving them a generous few hours to get home and dry. Now, things had changed; there was a murder, they were being hounded. Small fingers gripped to the front of his soaked shirt, as if anticipating the thoughts. “We will be ok.” He had made that promise, even if Will didn't know. “Do you think you can run a while? It's not too far now. Just over the next hill.” Will nodded and Hannibal knew he would do nothing less than give his all.

Gently, he placed the boy's feet on the ground and, with a glance at one another, they set off. A final sprint. Both boys were breathless after a short distance, Will pulled gently on Hannibal’s hand to get his attention. The spike of anxiety that was instinctual vanished as Hannibal took in Will's grin.

“I like your voice, Hannibal.” The older boy squeezed the smaller hand, huffing a quiet laugh. The sweet words touching in such a dire scenario.

“I like _you_ , Will.”

The pair crested the final hill, looking down towards their focus. The dogs were louder now, it urged the boys down the other side of the hill in long strides, veering towards a part of the border that was unmanned. The tree line continued nearby on the other side, they could lose themselves quickly. Hannibal nodded to himself, confident this would work. Stopping, both boys looked up at the thing they needed to scale, slick wet wood with barbed wire that ran along the top.

“We'll get scratches.” Will nodded in acceptance. “I'll get to the top, then I'll haul you up, ok?”

“Ok.” As usual, Will held no complaints or unwillingness.

Hannibal climbed the wall quickly, there were hand holds in the seems. _Will would be ok_ . The older boy managed to wriggle through the wire, coiled in loose circles, relatively unscathed. _Will would have no issue getting through_. Looking down the younger boy had already started the ascent. Reaching a midway point, Will struggled to find hand holds, Hannibal sucked in a breath as one of Will's hands slipped. The older boy tightened his thighs on either side of the wall to secure himself, bending low he managed to grab hold of Will’s wrist.  Glancing up through the strands of hair that fell into his eyes, he watched the search party crest the hill behind. A hand grasped onto his wrist, and Hannibal brought his attention back down to the blue eyes and implicit trust that laid behind them. The dogs were louder now.

“We are almost there, like the butterfly, we will fly free.” Hannibal began to drag the smaller boy up to the top, his arms were almost around him when a deafening sound echoed through the landscape. A sound Hannibal knew well. Gunshot. A small grunt left the mouth of his companion as his grip loosened. The weight that was Will dropped from his arms and Hannibal’s balance was compromised, he wavered a second before he tipped and fell backwards through the air, on the side of safety. It seemed never ending and then suddenly the ground met him, punching the air from his entire body. As his lungs screamed he sucked in a breath. _Will!_

“Will!” He screamed, uncaring of the noise he made. He sat up and moved forward, through the gap in the wooden slats that made the wall he saw Will looking back through a gap. On the other side. _On the wrong side_. Crawling towards him he tried to breath without it hurting. A hand pushed through the gap, fingers reaching towards Hannibal. The older boy reached out grasping the hand. “Will, climb up again, I can get up there quickly.” The look in Will’s eyes crushed him, he shook his head sadly.

“Sorry Hannibal.” The older boy smelled the fresh blood before he saw it on the second hand that came to rest in the gap.

“No, _no_ . You can still get up there. I know you can, Will. _Will_!” The younger child's eyes were growing wide now, the approaching search group getting louder, his eyes flickered around scared. As Hannibal said his name insistently, they refocused on the older. He shook his head once more.

“It’s my leg, Hannibal. Its bleeding a lot.” Hannibal bowed his head, pressing his forehead to Will’s hand. _No, but this wasn’t supposed to happen. He had made a promise_.

“I can’t leave you, Will.”

“You have to, they will think it was you. You have to go Hannibal.” Will’s eyes were urgent, firm even. The slight tremble in his lip betraying his stoic expression. “You have to run, _Hannibal! Please_ .” Hannibal was shaking his head in disbelief. In denial. _Not again, please not again._ “Leave, for me, please. I know the way, I can do this again.” Hannibal heard the lies in Will’s voice. He felt tears in his eyes. If he could get away, he could come back for Will, he would get his uncle to find him. If he was caught, they were both doomed.

“I will come for you, Will. I promise.” The older boy began to sob as he admitted defeat, pushing the words from him, hating them as he heard them. Hating himself as he gave in, as he abandoned again. “I will find you.” He kissed the knuckles of Will’s hand that were white with the strain of his grip, struggling to find air in a world Will may not share with him. The fingers released, he looked once more at that face. The younger boy nodded, a tremulous smile aimed at Hannibal, amidst the fear.

“They are almost here, go. _GO_!” Will shouted, tears filling his eyes. He pulled his hand back through the gap and Hannibal felt a part of his soul rip away with it.

It was the plea from Will that pushed him to his feet, the younger boy’s need for Hannibal to go and one of them fly free. He obeyed his companion, turning, he ran. He ran as tears streamed down his face, stumbling on the uneven ground, blindly running through the pain that raked through him, aimed at the trees for cover. The sounds of the dogs were right there now, Hannibal heard a scream ring through the night. The sound pushed him further away, like a coward he could do nothing. He was powerless again, he had left someone in pain, to despair, one who had trusted in him. _Again_. Hannibal's whole body ached as he began to shatter in the agony within. The scream was cut suddenly short, Hannibal choked on his cry at the ambiguity of the silenced noise. A man’s voice yelled out, the boy didn't know what was said or by whom. All he knew was there was chaos and Will was there in the midst of it. Hannibal didn’t stop running, he tried to outrun the grief and loss, only giving into that impossible task when he had collapsed in the thick of the woods.

There was only silence for company in the dark and the tiny sound within Hannibal of something breaking, irreparably. Tears dried on his face, the boy would not experience that sensation again for many many years.

* * *

 Frank Graham faced the stout woman with a fierce expression, fury ran through him, his hands trembled repressing it.

“I had to rip some of those boys from that child.” He pointed towards the drawn hospital curtain. “He was unconscious and they were still kicking him! You were shooting at kids!” His voice was a growl.

“I know, that is awful. But there was an incident-”

“I don't care what there was. It is your establishment, if you can't control those boys then you should not be in your position. _Awful_ doesn’t begin to cover it! This happen a lot there? Perhaps I should inform the authorities-”

The Matron moved towards him with hands held out apologetically. “No, no, that won’t be necessary, Mr..?”

“I have already told you, you won’t get my name. All you need to know is the boy stays with me. The nurse said there were marks on him older than tonight. _You_ are a disgrace.” Frank was done with the woman, pushing roughly passed her, she stood open mouthed, about to argue back when she decided better of it. With a sniff, she exited the room.

Frank let out a sigh as he settled next to the boy. He was stirring again. The man had been at Will's side for days and here he would stay for when the boy woke again. The doctors were not sure how much damage was done, and if it would be permanent, but the boy couldn’t remember his own name. His pale skin was marred by bruises and welts, the beating that he had witnessed was worse than anything he had seen in the war.

“It’s going to be ok, Will. You will be coming with me.” He was due to return home from deployment, he would adopt the boy and take him home. The man could do no less.

* * *

 Dr Hannibal Lecter sat in his Bentley, outside the FBI Behavioural Sciences building. His eyes focussed on his hands that gripped the steering wheel tightly. The white knuckles mirroring an image he would never forget.

He had gone years where his attention had been alerted whenever the name Will was mentioned. That had slowly died over time, the name only tugging slightly at a thread of emotion he allowed to reside within him. He was not that child alone in the woods anymore, he was Il Mostro, The Chesapeake Ripper, amongst other things. He didn’t expect there was much in him any more that accepted a normal sense of morality, or anything that would resemble a soul.

That night of the failed escape had remade him. He remembered making vows alone in the woods, between himself and the sky. Vows he would still live by. He would never leave Will when he found him. He would always make sure Will knew where to find him. He would always love him. But he had been unable to find him, nor love him. As much as he tried, every lead led to dead ends. He had threatened and killed for the information but no one knew what had happened to Will Nightingale.

The boy he had known had evolved and grown in his mind's eye. Half of him resigned to Will’s death, half of him blaming Will for making him feel, making him weak. Breaking him. Most of him felt wretched at himself for thinking that towards that innocent trust. But _this_ Hannibal had long accustomed himself to the beast within, to the feelings and thoughts that resided in him that would shock most to the core. His own morals, self penned and mostly changeable depending on his needs. He had grown to see himself outside of the human race, only donning his person suit to stir the world, mostly for his own entertainment.

Yet here he sat and Will was alive. Will Nightingale, or Will Graham, he was still his Will and he was gloriously alive. His solid self control had wavered. As he had sat opposite Jack Crawford and looked, actually looked, at the third man in the room, he could see his own hesitation as he remembered the encounter clearly, as though he were out of his own body. he had been about to drink and then that pause, the double take. His eyes had lingered too long, absorbing the other man. This was _his_ Will. Those blue eyes landed on him with not an ounce of recognition. He had run through his analysis of the other man, not through instant perception but of the boy he had known and long since examined, over and over in his mind, to reassure himself in that moment that this was _his Will._ Then he had inhaled, there was no mistaking the smell of the other, the scent after a storm had passed through.

For the most part, his self control had resumed. But the questions ran through his head; why had he not recognised him? There could be many reasons that he did not, the obvious being memory loss. There was no shred of memory sparked in the other, just hostility. Which led to a whole new line of questions; what sort of man had he become? Was he anything like the boy he had known? Even with memories lost, you couldn’t change your core, especially when beasts lurked within you, as he knew they did in both of them. He had an empathy disorder, this was something Hannibal had long since pondered, from memories of the other. There were similarities and differences, and the man yearned to pick them apart, to know them intimately, as he once had.

He was an FBI agent. The thought brought a huff of laughter from Hannibal. He had often fantasised about how their lives would have gone if he had just been a second quicker, if he had managed to pull him over the wall with him. What they would have become and the designs they would have made of the world, together. His mirth was short lived as the anger he had held, admittedly misguided, at Will reared its ugly head. Now he had no memories of what they had been through. The pain, the fear, the kill, the love? It was all lost on him. Passion and ire coiled within the man, Hannibal's mouth pulled into a hard line.

How would he treat the other now? He would keep his vows, that was who Hannibal was. They were, however, ambiguous. His own sense of love vastly different from others, if you could even call it love. Would it be enough to stop him playing the same games with Will that he found irresistible to play with others?

Hannibal was honestly overwhelmed. That was not something that happened anymore. A part of him that was assumed dead, revived. Returned to him.

He closed his eyes.

He replayed a memory; Will sitting atop the corpse of Fedor.

_He was moving. He was a bully. He hurt you. He…_

A tremor ran through Hannibal's body, amber eyes opened and the corners of his lips pulled up into a small smile. He would show Will who he was, who he was meant to become.

**Author's Note:**

> This was all supposed to tie neatly into the beginning of Hannibal, so go and watch it again as though they had a past life together. I also began writing a one shot which was in this same vein but after the fall, when Will remembers what came before, but I am not sure it is all that necessary.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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